Page 190 of Bad for Me

We stare into each other’s eyes as our breaths mingle. Something hot and electric passes between us, and my hips lift of their own volition, grinding against him.

“Dolly,” I whisper before turning my head away. I can’t keep staring into his eyes. It’s as if he’s drawing me toward an abyss, one I might not come out of the same if I were to let go and jump into it.

“Dolly?” Sinister repeats, pressing his palms against the floor and lifting himself off me just enough to see me clearly. I immediately miss his heat and the way his body feels against mine.

What? No, I don’t. Distance is good. Yep. Good.

“My name.”

Sinister brushes a knuckle over my cheek, the small contact breaking something inside me. I can’t do this. I can’t let anyone see the disaster I am inside. Shoving his hand, I squirm out from under him and scramble away. I can only imagine what I look like to him: small, trembling, pressed against the wall like a cornered animal.

But that’s what I am now, what they made me.

Sinister growls and leaps to his feet in a fluid movement that shouldn’t be hot but is. He grabs my arm, pulls me to my feet, and cuffs my neck with his hand. I whimper, and he freezes before a sly grin spreads across his face.

“Oh, Dolly, I think you’re going to be the ruin of me,” he whispers before brushing his lips against mine in a breath of a kiss. My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and he groans again, pushing his face against my neck and breathing harshly. A part of me wants him to slam inside me and show me what sex should be.

Another part of me wants to run screaming into the night, putting as much distance between us as possible. The thought of him chasing after me makes my knees buckle.

“Fuck it,” he mutters. His powerful arms close around me and haul me against him. His lips crash against mine, and my entire body lights up like the Fourth of July. I tangle my fingers in his hair, tugging on the strands as his tongue forces its way into my mouth.

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. Sinister invades every one of my senses, dominating my body in a way that leaves me dizzy and wanting more. My legs wrap around his waist, and my pussy clenches, desperate to be filled by him. He slams me against the wall and rips my nightie over my head, leaving me wearing nothing but thin cotton panties.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says against the column of my neck, pressing fervent kisses downward until he sucks a nipple into his mouth. My back arches as I cry out, pressing his head tighter to me. He sucks as much of my tit into his mouth as possible, using his teeth to scrape along my delicate flesh.

Each touch burns like I’m on fire, and I finally understand what all the songs were talking about. Sinister pulls me away from the wall and settles me on the mattress, his large hands that wield knives and take lives surprisingly gentle as they pull my panties down my legs.

“Open for me, little stalker,” he says, and I obey. Lust blazes in his eyes, but it doesn’t scare me, not like it used to at Grammy Lockwood’s. He touches me like I’m worth caring about, making tears spring to my eyes.

He freezes and sits back on his knees. “Tell me to stop, and I will.” I suck my bottom lip into my mouth and nod. He doesn’t realize the meaning of my tears, and now isn’t the time to tell him.

If I ever tell him.

How do you tell a man that you were raped repeatedly by numerous men? That you stopped fighting after the first year because you learned it didn’t matter. No amount of screaming stopped them, and it only earned me beatings or extended stays in solitary—a minuscule closet Grammy would lock me in for days at a time.

I shove the thoughts away into a little box and lock it up tight when Sinister strips out of his clothes. He has broad shoulders and chest, a narrow waist, and a delicious V that points to his thick cock. A tattoo of a bird rests over his heart, but the rest of his skin is unadorned.

A little voice in my head pipes up, asking if I’m really about to sleep with someone I just met. I tell it to shut up. I’ve never had anything solely for myself, and even if this lasts only one night, it’s something I can hold close when loneliness sets in.

Sinister kneels on the mattress and spreads my legs wider. I drop my head back and let my eyes fall closed, my hands twisting into the blanket. And then nearly jump out of my skin at the first touch of his warm tongue along my slit. He chuckles and places a large hand on my stomach, holding me down.

No one could accuse Sinister of not knowing what he’s doing. The man zeros in on my clit like it contains a homing device, making my breath catch in my throat and my arousal leak down my legs. He hums his approval, lapping it up like it’s the finest wine. His hand presses tighter on my stomach when I writhe beneath him, trying to escape his hold.

“Please, Sinister,” I beg as the pleasure tightens in my core. He chuckles and slides a finger inside me. My walls clamp down on it, and I let out a moan of frustration. It’s not enough. I need more.

“Tell me what you need, little stalker,” he says, his gaze jumping from my face to my breasts, then down to where his finger joins me.

“More. Fuck. Please!” He presses a second finger in and curls them. I shriek, my back coming off the bed at the powerful sensation.

“So fucking responsive,” Sinister says, working his fingers over the sensitive bundle of nerves while this thumb rubs my clit. “Scream my name when you come, Dolly. I want all of Arcadia to know you’re mine.”

I’m mine.I should protest his audacity at claiming me like a caveman, but the thought vanishes when my orgasm tears through me with a force that leaves me blind and gasping. I soar out into space and scream his name to the universe, my body fully onboard with the idea of belonging to this dangerous man, even if my mind isn’t.

Yet.

“Yes, that’s it. Such a good girl.” Sinister pulls my legs farther apart and slams deep inside me. My mouth opens on a silent scream before he crushes his mouth to mine. All I can taste is him. All I can think of is him. All I can smell is him.

My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as he pounds into me. He murmurs nonsense in my ear, telling me things likeyou’re such a good girlandyou’re so fucking wet for me, baby.

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